


we'll meet again (don't know where, don't know when)

by lettersfromnowhere



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (and some poorly executed angst), Alternate Universe - World War II, Epistolary, F/M, Love Letters, damereyexchange, schmaltz and fluff in the middle of a war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22301578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/pseuds/lettersfromnowhere
Summary: Poe Dameron has more than a few words for the girl he left behind.(Or: the wartime trials and triumphs of 2nd Lieutenant Poe Dameron of the 45th Squadron and Andrea "Rey" Kenobi, as told by their not-exactly-love letters.)
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 69
Kudos: 62





	1. Epistolary: Calm Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [duchessofthemoonbase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchessofthemoonbase/gifts).



> This is a prompt fill for my lovely friend @duchessofthemoonbase's birthday request on the Damerey Exchange Tumblr, who asked for historical AUs and letters. I know your birthday's in February, but I really really REALLY wanted to write this now, because I dearly love AUs like this, so I started; it won't be done until February, I can almost guarantee. (Gift that keeps on giving...?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, this is going to follow a bit of a strange format: every other chapter will be epistolary, like this one; the intervening chapters will be narrative, to show their reactions to events. 
> 
> NOTE: most of my research notes are at the end but one of them was pertinent enough to be needed in the opening notes. "ITALY," Poe and Rey's signature sign-off in this AU, was a common acronym in WWII-era letters meaning "I Trust and Love You." I chose it, among other possible acronyms, because I thought it was romantic enough to hint at their feelings but not so much so that it made their mutual crush (which they're both still trying to hide at this point) obvious. Also, the name change to Andrea was an attempt to add a touch more period realism because...well, “Rey” would be a very unusual given name in the 40s. Andrea is a little more on-brand with the AU. And made for a fun running gag. 
> 
> My research for this was extensive, but I probably still got things wrong. Please excuse any accidental historical liberties.

**_August 10th, 1944_**

**_Santa Ana Army Air Base, California_ **

_Dear Rey,_

_I miss you - always. I can hardly get through a few seconds without missing you and Dad and everyone at home something awful (but most especially you). They say it'll get easier, but it never does. Never thought I'd be one to be homesick, but here I am, writing you to complain about how much I miss you all._

_Flying's just how I expected - exhilarating - but it can also be more boring than I could possibly have conceived of before I spent hours flying around in the dark. Those are the sorts of things they teach you in Basic Pilot Training - flying at night, long-distance flights. In layman's terms...turning the most exciting thing I've ever done into hours upon hours of mind-numbing boredom. I imagine if this didn't come so easily - if flying by the instruments was as tricky for me as it was for some of the other guys here - I'd have a little more to do. But flying my "Valiant" is second-nature to me; I guess it's from all those years fixing cars with Mom and Dad. I know how to make things run smooth._

_That means more extra space in my brain for thoughts of home when I'm alone in the cockpit when they make me fly up and down the coast to practice flying long distances. And more time missing you. I always hope they have me fly over San Diego, just so I can look down and pretend I'm near you all again. Even when they don't, I spend most of my hours in the air thinking about all the trouble we used to get into, and remembering random details from movies we saw together for no reason at all, and missing those chocolate malts we used to love back when we were kids. (Remember when? One more reason I can't wait for this war to end: sugar in everything.)_

_I was fine, you know, when they were keeping me too busy to think about home. But now that I've got time on my hands to think, I miss it. I miss you, Sunshine. I miss your smile, your voice, your laugh._

_Write back soon? It keeps me going, knowing you're going on with your life at home._

_Yours,_

_Poe Dameron_

* * *

**_August 18th, 1944_**

**_San Francisco, California_ **

_Dear Poe,_

_I miss you too, though I'm not sure when you became so sentimental. Is that what shipping off does to people? I'm not quite sure if I like it yet._

_Work at the factory has kept me busy, luckily. There's been so much to occupy my mind that I haven't had too much time to think about you all. It's hard to be sentimental when you're assembling the motors that might one day power the plane flown by your dearest friend; they've got to be the finest motors anywhere. I like the thought that my motors might belong to your plane someday, but it also means I've got to make them as perfectly as I can, just in case you wind up flying with one someday. Nevertheless, the good outweighs the bad; my work makes me feel as if I'm still connected to you - my motors are a bridge across that distance._

_(On second thought, I may have fibbed when I said I hadn't the time to be sentimental.)_

_It does not surprise me in the slightest that you are finding yourself a natural pilot; you've always had an enviable aptitude for mechanics. (I have to take this opportunity, though, to remind you of the exception to that general rule: do you remember the time you nearly drove into an irrigation canal speeding down poorly-maintained country roads in your father's Cadillac? That car was practically his second child - I have to believe you do.) May I suggest, though, that when you're flying, you spend less energy thinking of me and more paying attention to the instrument panel? I don't claim to know much about flying, but I can't imagine you'd fly any better while distracted._

_Oh, I've made a friend at work! You're always telling me to talk to more people - are you proud? Her name's Rose and she's an absolutely brilliant mechanic. She might be the first person I've met who can look at a broken-down engine and tell you what's wrong with it faster than you can. And she never stops chattering, which is really a mercy considering how little talking I tend to do. I absolutely love her. She and I and Jess Pava - remember her, the one you had a crush on in high school? - have sort of formed a little group. It feels strange having friends besides you and Finn, but I think I like it._

_Speaking of, have you heard from Finn lately? It seems odd to ask, given that he's still in San Diego, but I can't visit him on-base and he's never been a punctual letter-writer, so I haven't heard anything from him in weeks._

_My hands feel ready to fall off - I never knew that_ fingers, _of all things, could ever be so sore. Look forward to hearing from you again. ITALY, old friend._

_Yours,  
Rey Kenobi_

_P.S. for pity's sake, Poe, stop addressing your letters to "Miss Andrea"! Just "Rey" will do just fine and you know it._

* * *

_**October 30th, 1944**_

_**Santa Ana Army Air Base, California** _

_Dear Andrea (no, I'm not going to stop):_

_Let me lead by asking where on earth you got the idea that I had feelings for Jess Pava. I'm sure there's plenty of news from the Base you'd like to hear, but before I get to it, I have to know what exactly led you to the conclusion that I had a crush on Jess in high school when I absolutely did not. I thought you knew that - I only liked one girl in school and it wasn't Jess. She was a dear friend, of course, but not that way. I felt it was important to clear that up straightaway, and look forward to your next letter so that you can enlighten me as to what convinced you of that._

_Now that I've said that, my news. We've moved on to Advanced Pilot Training; they assigned me to single-engine aircraft, which probably means they mean to make a fighter pilot of me. Surprised? I'm almost certain you aren't. It seems like a job to which I'd be well-suited. And as to your news: I_ am _proud of you. See? Talking to people is fun! Haven't I been telling you that for years? I'd like to meet this Rose when I get back home. I imagine I'd get along just fine with anyone you think of so highly, especially if she's as talented with motors as you say._

_I like the idea of my plane's motor being one of the ones you made, too. It's a nice thought, though I'm not sure (correct me if I'm wrong) if your factory produces the planes we're flying. We've graduated from the Valiant to the "Texan," which is what they use for single-engine pilots in Advanced Pilot Training (real name's the T-6, do you make those?), and let me say before I go on how I appreciate that you know enough about planes now to understand a single word in that sentence! Most of the guys here couldn't talk about this half as competently as you can. It's things like that that make me miss my best friend something fierce. You really are a swell type, Sunshine._

_And as for Finn: he wrote me once, about two weeks back. I wouldn't expect much - he means to write but never seems to be able to find time. (Understandable, as I'm sure you've learned.) He did, though, mention wanting to visit you if he ever gets a day off. That doesn't seem likely, but he's thinking of you. It seems he misses you almost (almost!) as much as I do._

_ITALY, Sunshine._

_Yours,_

_Poe Dameron_

* * *

_**November 25th, 1944**_

_**San Diego, California** _

_Happy thanksgiving, Flyboy._

_If I'm to be totally honest, when I'm asked what I'm grateful for this year around the dinner table, it's going to be hard to bite my tongue hard enough to stop it from slipping out that I'm fiendishly grateful you haven't shipped out yet. I'm proud of you, of course (from what I hear, you've turned out to be rather good at your job), but part of me balks at the idea of you in a dogfight. When you ship out in a few weeks, say you'll stay safe._ _I know you're in no position to promise me that you'll come home. Believe me, I'm well aware of that. But it would do me some good to hear you tell me you'll try. Do reassure me you'll do everything you can to come back to me, please?_

_In lighter news, I wanted to address your concerns from your last letter. I, personally, thought your feelings for Jess Pava were entirely obvious, so naturally, I'm intrigued by this mystery girl who held your famously fickle interest for so long. (Keep your secrets for now - I'll know in time.) I'll be sure to let her know, as she always looked a little green in the face when I told her of my suspicions while we were in school. She'll be relieved to hear that I was wrong._

_Any news from the base on your end? Do you at least get a good Thanksgiving dinner? (It would be a shame if not.)_

_Also, remember those top-five lists we always used to make? I feel as if this is a good time for one of those._

**_Top Five Times We Got Each Other In Trouble_ **

_5\. When I was caught doing your biology homework for you in 10th grade. (Only detention you ever got, one of a million for me.)_

_4\. When you tried to start a fistfight with Kylo Ren when he wouldn't leave me alone, in the middle of a hallway during passing period. (Gallant intention, terrible timing.)_

_3\. When I begged you to come with me to watch the sunrise from Sunset Cliffs (ha!) with me and your father caught you sneaking back in through your window because he heard the car pull in._

_2\. When you convinced me to smack Kylo Ren upside the head with my chemistry textbook because you'd already gotten detention for starting a fistfight with him (see item 4)._

_1\. When we both decided it was a fantastic idea to race your father's car and Finn's and...well, you know the rest of the story._

_ITALY, Poe. As always, thankful for you._

_Yours,_

_~~Andrea~~ Rey_

_(I told you to quit that!)_

* * *

_**December 4th, 1944**_

_**March Air Base, California**_

_My darling ANDREA,_

_Not a chance, Sunshine._

_Yes, they did make us Thanksgiving dinner, though it was nowhere near as good as my dad's. And thank you for the list. I had almost forgotten about those. I assume you want me to respond in kind?_

**_Top Five Things That Were Better Back at Home_ **

_5\. Beds._

_4\. Morning routines._

_3\. Morale._

_2\. Thanksgiving turkey. (Dry and unseasoned - a real disappointment.)_

_1\. The company._

_Especially that last one. ITALY, Sunshine. Thankful for you as always._

_Yours,_

_Flyboy_

* * *

_**December 19th, 1944** _

_**March Air Base, California** _

_You never replied to my last letter. I'm hoping that's because I didn't give you much to respond_ to, _which I understand. Or maybe that it isn't there yet - I'm not sure. But I'm writing you again, because I have news._

_I got my papers today. They're sending me to Hawaii - 11th Air Force, 15th Wing, 45th Squadron. From there I'll be shipped off elsewhere, probably to some middle-of-nowhere island in the Pacific with strategic importance that I don't understand and a name I can't pronounce. And it's almost Christmas._

_I'm going to war._ _Six days to Christmas, and I'm going to war._

 _This is the first one I'm going to be spending away from Dad. From you and Finn. I'm going to miss you all, obviously. And maybe it's foolish, because I don't think I'll see combat the moment I get there. But, remembering what you said, I'm terrified, because I can't stomach the idea of being another tally mark in someone's kill count and never seeing your face again. I'm terrified because this is_ real _now, no hiding from it. Maybe this whole thing is excessively vulnerable. Maybe it'll get censored out - you never know what'll be deemed "strategically significant" these days, be it the name of the plane I'm flying or the fact that morale is not high around here. But I knew you'd understand._

_I don't mean to scare you, but I want you to know that I'm as worried about me as you are, Sunshine. I want to come back to you. Now it's hitting me that I don't know if I will._

_Am I correct in wagering that this is a horrible time to tell you that I'm hopelessly in love with you?_

_Love,_

_Poe Dameron_

_P.S. I'm sorry it took the threat of imminent death to make me tell you that when I've wanted to for, oh, years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's Rey going to take that confession? ;) 
> 
> Research notes: 
> 
> -There were five stages to WWII pilot training; I skipped the first two, which mostly didn't involve actual flight, and went directly to Basic Pilot Training because I feel like it's more interesting to read about Poe flying actual planes than taking classes about the physics of flight. (I think?)  
> -The plane Poe is flying in basic training is a Vultee BT-13, the typical plane used at that stage of training at the time. It was nicknamed the "Valiant," which is how I referred to it, since I wasn't sure if the official name of the aircraft he was using would be censored out of a letter (for whatever reason, I couldn't find that information online). Likewise, the plane he flies in advanced training is the T-6 "Texan."  
> -I took some liberties with the routes Poe mentions taking to practice distance flights because a) I imagine that's what would make the most sense, b) I couldn't find information online about where they'd be doing practice flights, and c) since the geography works, it's very romantic. I have no idea if there's any way he actually would have flown past San Diego.  
> -Sunset Cliffs is a real place in San Diego, though I have no idea if it was called that in the 40s. 
> 
> -On Rey's job: one of the real WWII-era love letters I wrote was from a soldier to his girlfriend who'd taken a job in an aircraft factory; in it, he told his girlfriend that every time he saw a plane fly by he wondered if she might've been one of the people to get it into the sky. I thought that was adorable, and it fit the characters since I feel like Rey would not be the type to sit around and do nothing during the war, so I adapted it to this scenario. 
> 
> -ITALY: found in a list of acronyms commonly used in letters between sweethearts during WWII. "ITALY" stands for "I trust and love you" and it seemed to fit this context: it's affectionate enough to subtly hint at romantic feelings while also being platonic enough to make it impossible to tell if it's anything more than friendly. Exactly the kind of err-on-the-side-of-caution acronym that Rey would favor. 
> 
> -Time skips: each phase of pilot training was about nine weeks. That measure was roughly used to calculate the amount of time in between letters, since I wanted them to cover different phases of training. 
> 
> -the location: naval bases in San Diego were used for training during WWII, and there was a major aircraft factory there, so it was convenient for both Finn's (Navy recruit) and Rey's (aircraft manufacturing) purposes to set this in San Diego.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This...was the last news Rey expected, the first news she wanted, and the only thing more terrifying than her life already was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose Tico as an awkward, motorcycle-riding 1940s mechanic who rarely knows what to say is an image I never knew I needed.

Phone calls are rare these days, so when the phone rings only an hour after her last shift at the factory ends, Rose doesn't need to be told to pick up. (Usually, Paige resorts to yelling at her to get the phone. This is an anomaly - curiosity's gotten the best of her.) 

"Hello?" she asks, a little confused. "Tico residence, Rose speaking." 

She hears a broken sob on the other end before whoever's on the line manages to get words out. "Rose," Rey chokes. "Can you...can you..." 

Rose's eyes widen at that. She's never seen Rey - confident, competent, tough-as-nails Rey - so much as get a little misty-eyed. "Uh...do you want me to come over?" she asks cautiously, wondering all the while if she's making the right call. Rey's doesn't seem like the kind of problem that can easily be solved over the phone, but...she's never seen her this upset, has no idea what to do in such a scenario. "I can get Jess, too, if you want," she offers. (Jess knows her better than nearly anyone - they've been schoolmates and neighbors, Jess and Finn and Poe and Rey all nestled in the same neighborhood - so she figures it's a safe bet.) 

"Please," she says, and Rose doesn't need to be told twice. She hangs up, rings Jess (who readily agrees), hangs up again, grabs the old motorbike she and Paige have been repairing (her sister is working the night shift and can't spare the car), and speeds over to Rey's. The house is unmistakable - she's only been over once, but it's the only house in the little cul-de-sac that's painted yellow. By the time Rose lets herself in (Rey's family is never home and she knows it won't be a problem), Rey and Jess are already sitting at a kitchen table covered in a faded yellow tablecloth with a faded daisy pattern. 

Rey's hunched over, head in her arms, and Jess looks up when Rose enters with a grateful expression. Though she's got infinitely more experience with Rey than Rose does, it's quickly becoming clear to Rose that _no one_ really knows what to do when the normally-unflappable Rey breaks down. Shrugging in reply, Rose takes the seat to Rey's other side and places her hand on her back. "Rey, sweetheart, what happened?" 

"She got a letter," Jess says vaguely - that's clearly all she knows, so it's likely Rey hasn't been able to articulate what exactly happened. 

Rey draws a long, shaky breath and raises her face, blotchy with tears. "Sorry. Sorry," she mutters, furiously wiping at her eyes with a limp, damp handkerchief that can't be doing much good. Jess helpfully provides her own. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this." 

"There's nothing to apologize for, Rey," Rose tells her, squeezing her shoulder. "Do you want to tell us what happened?"

"Here. Read this." Rey reached across the table for an envelope (she'd moved it, hoping to avoid staining it with tears) and handed it to Rose. Jess leaned in, and the two attempted to puzzle out Poe's chicken-scratch cursive. _Of course it's Poe,_ Rose thinks the moment she reads the return address; Rey's feelings for one of two childhood best friends are plain as day, but she persistently denies them. 

Though his handwriting is difficult for the two to translate at first, they get the message, and at the final line, Rose and Jess exchange a loaded look over Rey, who's now hunched over crying again. 

She gets, now, why Rey is acting so utterly unlike herself. She's got a feeling that Rey has never been one to cry over a man, but _this -_ her dearest friend, probably her first love, all but admitting that they'll never meet again, making the confession she's probably been hoping for so long and so hard - _this_ is something else entirely. Rose pulls Rey into her arms, letting her cry into her work shirt. 

"He could _die,_ Rose," she sobs, her arms hanging limp at her sides as Rose attempts to embrace her. "He _loves_ me, and he could _die,_ and there's nothing I can do but _sit here, uselessly, losing my mind!"_

"Do you..." Jess asks cautiously, as if she's not sure if this is the time. 

Rey shakes her head, scrubbing far too forcefully at her soaked face with Jess's handkerchief. "I...wanted that, but...no. I wasn't going to say anything." She looks down again.

"Hey, this is _good,"_ Rose says gently. "He feels the same way! That's wonderful!" 

" _Wonderful?"_ Rey's glare is withering. "My best friend told me he loves me, right when he's probably getting sent to his _death!"_

Jess grimaces. _Not your finest moment, Tico._ "She means it's wonderful that he feels the same way, Rose. Aren't you at least glad you know?" 

"No," Rey sobs, and both believe her. "What am I supposed to do, knowing he cared for me all along and now he's in danger?" 

"What you always do," Rose cuts in. "Pick up and keep going."

"She's right, Rey," Jess agrees. "You aren't the type to lose heart, never have been."

She shoots them both a dirty look. "I'm not the type to let a man reduce me to tears, either, and look at me now." 

"Rey, I've known you for years, and I know how you are, but I'd be more worried if you _weren't_ crying." Jess wandered a few feet away into the kitchen and returned with a towel, as her handkerchief was now soaked beyond usefulness. "You can be upset about this. It's only human." 

"And we all know you'll be back at work tomorrow, putting on a brave face," Rose adds. "Not that you have to. But..." 

"That's you. A survivor."

"Exactly." Rose smiles gently. "Now, you know what I think you should do first?" 

"Eat half my body weight in food?" Rey asks, a little strength returning to her voice. Jess and Rose exchange a relieved look. 

"Well, sure, but good luck, what with rationing. No. I was thinking of something else."

"Why do I feel like I'm not going to like this?" 

"You should write back," Rose says, squeezing Rey's clammy hands. "Tell him how you feel. He deserves that much." 

"I was absolutely right. I don't like this," Rey replies, starting to stand. Jess grabs her wrist and sits her back down. 

"You don't have to do it _now,_ but you ought to do it _soon,_ and yes, we _will_ be pestering you until you've mailed it," Jess tells her. "I know it's scary, but if he can do it..." 

Rey nods weakly. "You know what? Let's get this out of the way. Rose, can you bring me-"

Rose's face lights up in spite of it all. "At your service!" she says cheerily, bounding out of the room.

...only to return a few moments later. 

"I never asked where the paper was," she says sheepishly.

Sighing, and almost smiling, Rey gets up and goes in search of writing supplies herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and lacks the intricate period detail of the letter chapters, but that's sort of the point of these interlude chapters, I suppose? I hope you enjoyed! Comments are sunshine on a cloudy day :)


	3. Epistolary: Is Not That Strange?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really going hard for the feels here.
> 
> Also, if you've been reading from the start, I recommend you go back to the first chapter and reread it, because I made a change that makes this chapter make a lot more sense. (The lists, which I invented for this chapter, made a lot more sense if they were a recurring thing, so I added them at the beginning.)

**_January 18th, 1944_ **

**_San Diego, California_ **

_My dearest,_

_This is, beyond a doubt, the most sentimental letter I will ever write to you, so please do not get used to this. It took more out of me than I care to admit to say this much._

_Anyway. Would you like to hear a confession so exceedingly vulnerable you'll no doubt hardly believe it came from my pen?_ _All right, I shall unburden myself. Whether you want it or not, here it is: I cried when I read your last letter._

 _Poe, I doubt I even have the words in me to describe what I felt when I reached the end, but if I had to try, I could say that in that moment, your fears became my own, the hope lying beneath my own as well. And there were tears. How rare for me to be moved to tears by_ anything - _the ability to make me cry is a faculty few possess, but you are among them. As you have always been. Is that love? Perhaps it is. I cannot say I know what you're supposed to mean when you say you're in love, but if this - years upon years of affection compounded by friendship, time spent together, shared joy and shared pain - is not it, I haven't the foggiest idea what might be. If wanting to possess someone's heart with a fervor that frightens you so much that you couldn't possibly speak of it is not love, then I have been direly confused. Is that what you mean when you say you're hopelessly in love with me?_ _Because if it is, then I am equally, irrevocably taken with you._

_I only wish we'd been able to admit that we held each other so close to our respective hearts before it was uncertain whether I'd ever be able to hold you close again._

_And in the moment I realized what I'd hoped for so many years was no longer just a figment of my imagination, the shock and joy and the knowledge I could lose you - knowing you knew you could lose_ us _before we ever had a chance to be - were simply too much, and I cried like a baby in such a fashion as I hope never to again (I do so hate to cry). I felt an uncharacteristic desire to tell someone about it, so the moment I finished, I was at the telephone, calling Rose. (I was as close to hysterics as I will ever come by then, of course.) She came over, brought Jess, too; and they did their best to console me. They did a good job of it, mostly reminding me that I still have a life to live out here. And I'm trying, Poe, I really am. You're risking your life; I owe it to you to live mine. I'm working as much as I can; Rose was kind enough to offer to take me to the cinema, her treat; next time I have a day off I think I'll go to the beach. You know how I love to hear the ocean rage, knowing I'm safe on the sand._ _(What an apropos analogy to my present circumstances and yours.) I am doing all I can to live, make the most of the life I'm so fortunate to cling to. Is that what you'd like, Poe? I believe it is, but it would be nice to know for certain._

 _I don't expect mail from you for a long while, so for the present I shall have to content myself imagining what it might be like if you were here with me._ _Be safe, my love. (May I call you that? I've always thought it impossibly romantic.) ITALY._

_Love,_

_Rey_

* * *

_**February 16th, 1945** _

_**Saipan, Marianas Islands**_

_Rey-of-Sunshine,_

_You have no idea how much I needed to read those words when I received your letter earlier today. I will spare you details - there are things I've seen that I could not, in good conscience, share with anyone back home when I already know how you worry for me. (Not to mention things I have no wish to remember myself.) But I am seeing combat for the first time, and I know now why they say that war is hell. You are the thought I cling to when I am surrounded by unimaginable brutality. And do you know what's strange?_

_I no longer feel like the fear of meeting my demise here follows me everywhere I go. Terror has been supplanted by a resolve to get back to you - you, who love me, whom I love - that is so strong it simply crowds out fear. I have no room to worry when I have to focus all my energies on returning to you. So though I have seen more death than anyone should, I no longer feel its fingers around my throat. It didn't die off or disappear; there just wasn't any space for it anymore. I feel revulsion beyond comprehension and sadness beyond belief at the bloodshed and the loss I've seen, but what has changed is the knowledge that I needn't give in; I can see that and still choose to believe, however difficult, that higher things might still prevail. That somehow, in all of this, justice could be served. I can believe that I'll make it back to you._

_What an idea, what with all I've seen these days - thinking something good could result from any of this. But if I don't I just know I'll go crazy. You know how I've always thrived on ideas; these are the ones that are going to keep me going through what I suspect will be the worst days of my life._

_Those ideals, and the love we've shared (even in silence) for so long._

_ITALY, darling._

_Hopefully,_

_Poe_

_P.S._ _you may call me whatever you like, though I must admit I've grown rather partial to "Flyboy."_

* * *

_**March 9th, 1945** _

_**San Diego, California** _

_Flyboy,_

_Do you remember how we used to quarrel over absolutely everything? How we ignored so many crystal-clear signs of our growing attraction to each other, believing we were imagining them all?_

_I regret every minute, Poe. Every minute I didn't spend enjoying you rather than picking a fight or beating around the bush. Absence really does do something to a person; I'm realizing while you're away that I wish I'd not been so shy or half so argumentative. (Though the latter gets harder to regret with every passing second; it is such fun, and I'm nearly always right anyhow.) Regardless, I know how things are, and though I'm trying not to panic at the mere thought of you in the middle of all that, I'm reading the papers; though I understand your reluctance to share the more ghastly details of the battle with me, I know them anyhow. Did you know that I once went eight years without crying? (Of course you did.) Well, I've cried approximately four times this month. It is absolutely dreadful and I hate it with a passion, but how else am I supposed to react to the newsreels and headlines? (Reading all of that, I _can only hope you are not at Iwo Jima. I've read that it's a bloodbath and I pray you're nowhere near there right now.)__

__But most of all, your letters are what always get me.__ _You've got to quit declaring your love for me, Dameron, or I'll be quite drowned in an ocean of tears by the time you make it back. And y_ _ou_ will _make it back, Flyboy. I_ know _you will. I know because I don't know what I'd do with myself if you didn't, and I know because I know you're far too much a gentleman to do that to your lady-love. How rude it would be to die before I've even had a chance to kiss you! I won't allow it._

_(I, of course, am falling back on facetiousness to mask my worry, as is my custom.)_

_I can't comprehend what you've seen and felt lately, nor can I pretend that a couple pretty sentences would do anything to lift your spirits, but I must try. Would you like a morale-boost? I like to think you would. So here you are._

**_Top Five Things I Said To You Most Often (and What They Actually Meant)_**

_5\. What I said: "I've been dying to go to the [insert: cinema, beach, etc.]."_

_What it meant: "if I keep getting you to take me places, perhaps you'll eventually kiss me."_ (That _is what I was actually dying to do.)_

_4\. What I said: "State is a great school - I think you should stay in town for college."_

_What it meant: "I can't afford to go anywhere but State, and if you leave me, I am going to be upset."_

_3\. What I said: "why must you be so difficult?"_

_What it meant: "why do I like it so much?"_

_2\. What I said: anything involving the words "old pal," "best friend," etc._

_What it meant: "I like you, but I'm sure you don't like me, so even though it pains me to pretend we're just friends, that is what I will do."_

_1\. What I said: "you drive me crazy, Dameron."_

_What it meant: "I love you."_

_(I do.)_

_(That's the first time I've said that to you, isn't it? I just realized.)_

_ITALY, Flyboy._

_Love,_

_Rey_

_P.S. "Rey-of-Sunshine" has got to be even worse than "Andrea." At least Andrea never threatened to make me_ swoon _like this._

* * *

_**March 12th, 1945** _

**_San Diego, California_ **

_I'm not expecting a reply, but I'm going to keep sending these morale-boosting letters until you're overrun with them._

**_Top Ten Reasons I, the Girl Who Once Swore She'd Never Fall In Love, Fell For You and No One Else_ **

_10\. Few boys have ever wanted to put up with my argumentative streak, but you, in fact, encourage it._

_(You enabler, you.)_

_9\. You wrote at least six essays for me in our 11th grade English class and didn't bat an eyelash, even though we both knew you might get caught because Ms. Holdo would raise her eyebrows the moment she saw how much my writing had "improved". (Granted, I did your chemistry homework...and your biology, and your algebra...but numbers are numbers._ You _took a risk.)_

_(You are stupidly selfless, and I love it.)_

_8\. You let me borrow your father's car when I needed to learn to drive and didn't have a car to practice in. If that's not trust, I don't know what is._

_7\. The way you bite your lip should be illegal._

_6\. Your devotion to your corgi knows absolutely no bounds. (BB is well, by the way. How forgetful of me to have neglected to mention that.)_

_5\. Your incessant sentimentality. There was a time that would've grated on me but it's so utterly_ you _that I can't help but love it._

_(I've clearly absorbed some, writing letters like this...)_

_4\. The way you laugh at even the most bland and uninspired puns Finn and I can come up with in our ongoing Battle of the Puns. Even when they're inane enough to rot teeth, you laugh._

_3\. Fatigues aren't supposed to look half as good as they do in the picture you sent me of your first day of basic training. I will admit, shamelessly, to having flushed beet-red when I first saw it.  
(Ah, those halcyon days of emotional repression!) _

_2\. You opened your home to me when mine was a bad place to be._

_(Your heart, too.)_

_1.Through every storm and trial, through every moment that I was mulish and difficult and closed-off, you were there, waiting on the other end when I was ready to come out of hiding. And somehow, in all of that, you found it within yourself to love me._

_(I know you've probably not read these yet, but now that I've said it once, the floodgates are open, I'll say it again and again and again._

_I love you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I LOVE you, I love YOU. I LOVE YOU._

_Strange how natural that feels.)_

_All my Love,_

_Rey_

_P.S. I almost forgot the ITALY! Shame on me._

* * *

_**March 15th, 1945** _

**_San Diego, California_ **

_I've seen the newsreels from Iwo Jima and I have a sinking feeling that's where I sent you. Please be all right, Poe._

_Please._

_I've updated an old list for this one. I hope you don't mind._

**_Top Five Things I Want to Do When You Get Back_ **

_5\. Go out dancing, because you always wanted to but I never let you take me._

_4\. Go up to Santa Monica and ride the roller coaster, because I always wanted to but you called it a "death-trap." (Can you really say that after flying a fighter jet? Really? How ironic.)_

_3\. Run to the drugstore and drink as many chocolate malts as I can get down before I get sick. (When the war is over, I'll be eating enough sugar to feed a small country, mark my words.)_

_2\. Steal one of your jackets and wear it for all eternity. I am never giving it back. (Actually, I could do that_ now _\- your father would definitely give me one...hmm.)_

_1\. Kiss you until you forget what breathing is._

* * *

_**March 24th, 1945** _

**_Iwo Jima_ **

_Rey,_

_I wish I had words to describe what this month has been like. This is the best I can do for now._

**_Top 5 Questions I'm Asking After The Month We Just Had_ **

_5\. How you knew that you were just about the only thing that I could feel good about right now and sent extra letters._

_4\. How you knew where I_ was. _They sent us to Iwo Jima as soon as they'd secured an airstrip (on the 6th, I believe), but no one told you that. Once again your intuition amazes me._

_3\. Why I made it when countless many others didn't._

_2\. How I can even begin to process what I've seen._

_1\. When I'm going to be able to go home._

_Love,_

_Poe_

_P.S. I've got a buddy in my squadron who was so spooked by what he saw that, after it was all over and he was alive, he up and proposed marriage to his girl back at home in his latest letter. Crazy, isn't it?_

_(...that_ is _crazy, right?)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrestled a lot with Poe's first letter in this - whether someone at war, in the midst of such a brutal battle as Iwo Jima, could or would ever write something so hopeful. But then I realized that hope against all odds is this dude's _thing_ , so...I went for it. As a person who's never been at war, I hope that it doesn't sound hopelessly naive.
> 
> Also. Letter proposal guy is totally Snap ;) 
> 
> RESEARCH NOTES  
> -The Wikipedia article about the 45th Fighter Squadron has a bit of a gap: it states that the squadron was ordered into combat in January 1945 and left Hawaii for Saipan, and the next we hear of it is during the later stage of the Battle of Iwo Jima (where it arrived on March 7th, 1945). I have no idea if those pilots would've flown any missions between January and March, but his first letter works a lot better if Poe had seen combat by this time, so I chose to take the liberty of assuming he had been in battle by then, though what battle he was in is undetermined.  
> -"State" (referenced in Rey's list - third letter) refers to San Diego State University, one of the only universities in San Diego that existed before WWII, apparently.  
> -According to a Tumblr post about how Jack Dawson is a time traveler (real reliable source, I know), the roller coaster at Santa Monica Pier was built in 1916, so they definitely could've taken a trip up to ride it.


	4. Interlude: Aftershocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe and Rey take a moment to process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all over the place, but still. Update :)

"I never thought I'd do it, you know? Didn't think I'd have the guts. After all, she's so young, and I'm sure she's got fellas following her everywhere back home, so why _me?_ I was afraid to even try. But...almost dying will do that to you. I just knew the second I landed that last time that I had to, and I started writing that letter first thing when I got the chance. Easiest letter I ever wrote." Snap Wexley, an older man who's become the closest thing Poe has to a best friend in the 45th, is flushed with pride. 

Easy enough to see why: he's just mailed a question and a ring to his girlfriend back home, something he was inspired to do (as he's told Poe _over_ and _over_ and _over -_ Poe suspects it's a coping mechanism) after most of their squadron skirted death at Iwo Jima. Poe's happy for the guy - he truly is. But he'd be lying if he didn't admit that he's grown more than a little weary of the constant talk of Karé Kun's transcendent magnificence coming from his equally-traumatized buddy. Maybe because it's just (as loath as he is to confess it) annoying at this point, and much as he loves Snap, combat's worn down his self-control, and he can't control his irritation at hearing the same story over and over like he thinks he should be able to.

Or maybe because it reminds him too much of his _own_ girl - the one he knows he loves even without a single date, even a face-to-face exchange about their feelings - and how close he came, just by proximity, to leaving forever without even a kiss. Or of the thousands of good men whose wives and girlfriends and old flames and high-school crushes and ones-who-got-away back home are never going to see their faces again after this.

Normally, Rey - her name, her face, her voice - would be the first thought in his mind after seeing combat, but knowing what's been lost here and how close he's come to being among the lost so many times, it's just too much. He feels as if letting her invade his thoughts will doom him never to see her again - silly as it would've seemed to Poe in his civilian life, things are different now; superstitions have new weight. 

"Congratulations," Poe replies through gritted teeth. It's all he can manage for the fourteenth time. "I'm sure she'll say yes." 

"You think so?" Snap's eyes light up, and Poe can't help but smile. "What about you? I've never heard you talk about anyone back home. Is-" 

"It's confusing," he sighs. "So no, I wouldn't say I exactly have a girl." Poe's surprised to find how much he's been aching to think of Rey, to tell someone she exists - as if the simple act of telling makes what they have more real. 

"What do you mean?" Snap asks, leaning back against the wall behind his bunk. He's still flushed with excitement, but he's listening intently, and Poe loves him for it. 

"Well, uh. Her name's Andrea," Poe says. "Rey, we all called her. Here." He fishes around in the pocket of his fatigues for the small photo of her (her senior picture, cut from their last high school yearbook the night before he left for training) that he's kept with him all this time. "Gorgeous, no?" 

"Gorgeous," Snap agrees. "Classmate?"

Poe nods. "Grew up across the street from each other, went to the same schools - we were best friends growing up. I'd, uh...had a crush on her, I guess, for a while." It seemed an inadequate description of what their friendship had meant to him, but he couldn't think of a better word in the moment. "But I never said anything." 

"Shame. You would've made a sweet couple, sounds like." 

"Might still." Poe smiles to himself. "I told her how I felt in a letter, she wrote back saying she felt the same way...on and on since then." He shows Snap a stack of carefully-stacked letters, tied together with twine. "All hers. So I love her. I know she loves me. But...we still..."

"Not in person?" Snap asks. 

"Yeah." 

"Well, then, you gotta make it home to her, right?" 

Poe smiles bitterly. "That's the issue. Talking about her feels like...jinxing it." 

"Nah. Talking about her's the best way to make sure you get home." Snap looks up, and his eyes meet Poe's with enough hope in them to knock him off his feet. "Don't clam up, Poe. Give yourself something to fight for. This Rey - think about all the things you're going to do when you get home. Think about her when you don't know if you're gonna make it, and how you _have_ to make it, because it's her, and she's worth it." 

"Yeah." Poe plays with the chain around his neck, pulling it from beneath his shirt to run his finger across the surface of the ring attached. "Maybe."

(He loves the idea, but he's not sure he's ready to be so optimistic.) 

"Exactly. And think about kissing her for the first time. Maybe in the rain, under a streetlamp-" 

"Oddly specific," Poe replies, a little color and warmth returning to his voice. "And it never rains in San Diego." 

"That was how I kissed Karé for the first time," Snap explains sheepishly. "Just...insert your own scenario, I guess." 

"Walking on the beach," Poe decides. "Out on Coronado Island. At night. The waves pounding the shore. That's where I'd want to do it." 

He turns the ring hanging from an ever-present chain around his neck over in his hand. It seems insane, thinking about _that_ when they've never even been on a proper date, but a first kiss isn't the only thing he'd want to do there, on the beach she loves so much. 

(He knows Snap would've loved to have proposed face-to-face - maybe someday, he decides, he'll do it in his place. Same spot, same scenario, in a far-off someday. 

It's ridiculous. 

But it seems inevitable, someday, because he already knows there is no one else.) 

* * *

"Your turn to ask a question now," Rey prompts, nudging Rose (who's bright red after her last revelation.) "Better be a good one, after that."

Rose rolls her eyes but plays along. "Mmm...most trouble you've ever been in." She lays back against the beach blanket, wrapping her sweater a little tighter around her shoulders. (April by the coast gets chilly.)

"I drag-raced once," Jess admits readily. "My folks were furious. I won, though. So there was that." 

Both other women nod in approval. It's an extremely Jess thing to have done, and besides, she could beat anyone in a race. (She's always maintained that if the military allowed lady pilots, she'd have been first to enlist.) 

But now the eyes fall to Rey. 

"Ummm...let me think." Rey purses her lips; there are so many incidents in her past that could be used to answer this question that she scarcely knows which to use. But then she remembers, and her face lights up with mirth. "One time, in tenth grade, Poe had the biggest crush on this girl named Zorii in the next grade up, so he asked her to the homecoming dance. She said yes, and he and our other best friend, Finn, and I, were _so_ excited for him. Then halfway through the dance, she disappeared, and later we saw her dancing with some other boy, and of course, we were both livid, and Poe was heartbroken, so naturally, I had to avenge him-" 

"Oh no," Rose groans. 

"Oh, I remember that!" Jess crows. 

"Anyways, Finn wouldn't hit a girl, so that left me. So the next Monday, when we saw Zorii in the halls with that other guy's Letterman on, I marched straight over to her and clocked her in the nose." 

"I saw that. It was the best thing I'd ever seen," Jess adds. "Zorii's...not exactly loyal." 

"You're _insane,_ Rey," Rose replies, her eyes sparkling even so. "Loyal, but insane." 

"Yup." Rey grins. "Okay, Jess, you're up." 

"Uh...something you've never told anyone?" Jess shrugs. "Sorry, I'm not very creative." 

Jess flushes crimson; Rose and Rey immediately fix their best _divulge,_ _please_ gazes on her. 

She demurs. "You go first, Rose," she mutters. 

"Um. That's kind of hard...um, I sing Vera Lynn in the shower? I can't think of anything better than that." Rose shrugs. "Kind of embarrassing, but...whatever. What about you, Jess?" 

"Um. Okay." Jess looks a little choked. "I was...uh. Maybe, uh, Rey...you weren't super off about me having feelings for, um. For Poe. I got over it, though! A _long_ time ago!" 

Rey bursts into hysterical laughter, and when she finally catches her breath she chokes, "you and me both, Jess." After another moment, she adds a triumphant "and I _told_ you!" 

"Yeah, uh. Next," Jess mutters, her face hot. What about _you,_ Rey?" 

Unlike the others, she's got no trouble. She knows precisely what she can hide and what she doesn't want to - her concealment is practiced, as is her divulgence. "Poe said something in his last letter that I can't make sense of-" 

"Another letter? And you didn't tell me?" Rose practically pounces in her excitement. "What did he say?" 

"Oh, something about how his war buddy proposed to his girlfriend via letter. Normal enough that he'd want to tell me that. But what was weird was what he said after." Rey inhales sharply. "He wrote, and I quote, 'crazy, right? That _is_ crazy, right?'" 

Jess' eyes narrow. "Um. Don't tell me he's gonna propose when the last time he saw you, you were 'just friends'?" 

"That's what's weird. Poe's always been the take-it-slow type. Maybe it's the near-death experience talking, but I just don't know why he'd say it like that if..." Rey trails off, flushing. "It's insane. We're _nineteen._ I don't want to get married now - it'll probably be years. And I've never even been on a _date_ with him. But...is it terrible that I don't hate the idea of it? Being proposed to?" 

"It's a little weird," Jess says, puzzled. "Where is this coming from?" 

"Knowing you could lose someone like that messes with your head," Rose postulates. "Maybe it's just that." 

"Maybe I've loved him for longer than I realized?" Rey offers. 

Rose smiles softly. "We'll find out when he comes home, won't we?" 

_When._

Rey smiles. "We will." 

_When._

"


	5. Epistolary: almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things take more than words to say, but Poe and Rey aren't ones to shy away from trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea what to do here.  
> So...enjoy?  
> *aggressively listens to the Bandstand cast recording*  
> Also! ONE MORE TO GO and then it's reunion time! :)

_**May 10th, 1945** _

_Sunshine,_

_I'm sure you've heard that the war's over in Europe. I'm relieved, as are we all, but can't help wishing I was one of the men serving in Europe who's headed home right now. Let me preface this letter by saying that I miss you dearly, Rey. And_ _I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written._

_It hasn't been as easy to write as it used to be lately. Some days I want to write, but it's simply too hard to get words out, so this comes to you far later than you deserve. You know how I am, though - always expressing myself - so in spite of all that tells me not to write you, I must._

_In the days following Iwo Jima, I didn't want to think of you._

_No. Not that. You were all I_ ever _wanted to think about, but I wouldn't let myself. It seemed like a jinx. Why would I tempt fate by picturing our reunion? I wanted to, but it felt too dangerous, like I was admitting a weakness to an enemy. Because it is, Rey - this war is our enemy, and I was loath to tell it my weakness for you. As if it would exploit it, rip me away from you the moment it knew that you were what I wanted to make it back for. (Anyone who'd reply to that by saying that an abstract concept can't exploit your weaknesses has never been to war, my darling.) And it was painful, blocking the comforting thought of you from my mind when I lay awake at night, trying to chase away the demons in my head with better things._

_Then my friend proposed to his girlfriend, and I became so irritated with his constant retelling of the story (not that I wasn't happy for the guy - I'm thrilled! - but he'd told me the same story well over twenty times in five days!) that I responded with a story of my own._

_About a girl who wasn't exactly my girl but might be soon. About my best friend in the world, and how afraid I was to think of her. And he told me to let my mind remember you again, because repressing my thoughts of you was letting this war take yet another precious thing from me. So I tried to take his advice. And before I knew it you were right back in the forefront of my mind, taking up as much space as a person could. I thought about everything I wanted to do when I got back to you; I told myself that thinking of it wasn't a curse but another reason to keep fighting when things were simply too difficult to endure without a cause._

_I thought about coming home, you meeting me at the airstrip or the harbor or the train station. I'd kiss you on sight.  
  
_

_But I also thought about the future. Maybe five, seven years down the road, when we're older and we've had time - and something a little more concrete than letters to go by - I thought about taking you out to Coronado in that convertible my dad's been fixing up, driving down that street that edges up to the beach with your favorite songs blaring from the radio. I thought about taking that ring off its chain and slipping it onto your finger as we walked along the shoreline, how much I hoped you'd love that if I ever did. (When I kissed you we'd hear the ocean in the distance, and I'd never have to let you go.)_

_I think about the taste of your lips after a chocolate malt (scandalous, I know) and can't imagine anything more delicious. I think about taking you dancing (don't think I didn't read that, Sunshine! I intend to take you up on it). I think about everything on your list of things you wanted and I think about making them all come true._

_I think about loving you without the lingering fear that I'm cursing us in doing so._

_Maybe soon I'll have more than thoughts to go by, Sunshine. But at least for now I have them._

_ITALY, my love._

_With all my heart,  
Poe _

* * *

_**May 23rd, 1945** _

_Finn is home!_ _He was back from France yesterday. My friend at the factory had told us all about how her brother came home and wasn't himself at all, and I was afraid he'd have changed beyond recognition. Whenever my friend described her brother lashing out in anger, or acting like a shell of himself, fear would well up in my throat, because I couldn't - didn't want to - imagine either of my boys coming home unrecognizable. And I know it was inevitable that going to war would change you, but I couldn't help but hope that you who I love would be spared._

_Well, I can't say Finn was unchanged, but I thank God that he came back relatively intact._

_I met him at the dock, and he almost ran to me (I was the only one there to greet him) and we just held each other, with people streaming all around us by the thousands, and I can't quite remember but I think we both cried. I couldn't stop chattering as I drove him home - I offered to let him stay with me, and he accepted - and he didn't say much, but occasionally he'd smile or say how good it was to see me again. He seemed normal enough (he even expressed an interest in meeting Rose; she and Jess came up frequently as I tried to catch him up on everything that had happened), but I couldn't help but notice a haunted look in his eyes that my conversation never did chase away._

_One good bit of news, though: I told him about you, and he burst out laughing._

_True, hysterical laughter - I didn't even think it possible after a few hours of dead-eyed conversation._

_  
"I told you, Rey," he told me. "I_ told _you that you couldn't hide it forever." He pulled me in for another hug after that, asking after you, telling me how happy he was for us. I know he meant it._

_We can't wait to see you again. Come home, Flyboy._

_ITALY._

_Love,_

_Rey_

* * *

_**June 15th, 1945** _

_Dear Poe,_

_If you've received my other letter (which I doubt), I'm so sorry. You probably wondered why on earth I didn't address a single thing you wrote to me in your last letter when every line warrants addressing._

_But...what could I even say to that? Your words simply knocked me off my feet. After all, I warned you that my first sentimental letter would be my last. I may have cried; I_ know _that Finn and Rose did when I showed it to them (I hope you don't mind - and also, I've introduced them! They get along as well as he and I do, which I find absolutely delightful)._

_I'm ashamed, really, that I have nothing of substance to say to a letter like that. Everything I write sounds so melodramatic or so flat that none of it makes the cut and my wastepaper basket keeps on filling up with crumpled drafts that weren't good enough to be mailed. Perhaps it's something I couldn't understand, not having been to war and all. But the way you described your thoughts of me - and the fears that you had to overcome to even allow them to exist - moved me in entirely new ways. I can't even really explain what I felt, reading your letter - why is it that you always do that to me? I never had to deal with so many unidentifiable feelings before you, you know._

_(And I love you for it.)_

_Poe, I'm honored to be the reason you keep going. ITALY, Flyboy._

_Love,_

_Rey_

* * *

**_July 20th, 1945_ **

_My Everything,_

_Don't ever apologize to me for anything you write. Just getting your letters (they always smell like engine grease, which I personally find more alluring than any perfume you could wear - and I say this entirely unironically!) is enough for me._

_I'm glad to hear that Finn is holding up alright, and that he gets on so well with your friend. I've been telling him he needs to expand his circle of friends beyond the two of us since grade school (what is it with me and best friends who don't talk to anyone but each other?), so that's good to hear. I'm sure you'll be just as glad to hear that my friend Snap (of the letter proposal) has been accepted since I last wrote; his fiancée sent him a one-word V-Mail saying simply "yes." He's close to being too ecstatic to breathe and I suspect he will be for another three weeks, so I sincerely hope we don't get assigned to anything big soon because he is absolutely and completely compromised. (Speaking of V-Mails, please never use one - your letters wouldn't smell like you if you did.)_

_Not much more news - at least, not of the kind that I think you'd want to hear. May I make a list instead?_

**_Top Five Times I Nearly Told You How I Felt But Didn't_ **

_5\. When you clocked Zorii Bliss in the face for me. (That was the moment it hit me and I almost ran over and kissed you on the spot; I didn't, obviously.)_

_4\. When you came over for dinner and my father piled your plate with so many empanadas that I doubted you'd even be able to fit them all, and you did (plus two more)._

_3\. At your grandfather's funeral, when you looked more relieved than bereaved and I wanted to tell you I hoped you knew my heart was always open to you if you wanted it._

_2\. When we went to the movies and you'd pretend not to care when people kissed onscreen but I could see your eyes welling up._

_1\. When I got on the train to head up to Santa Ana, knowing I had no idea if I'd ever even see you again._

_I will, darling. Soon._

_I just have a feeling._

_ITALY, Rey._

_Unconditionally Yours,_

_Poe_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RESEARCH NOTES:  
> -In reality, it probably would've taken Finn much longer than a month to get home after VE Day, but I bumped up the timing for narrative purposes.  
> -V-mails were postcard-like letter cards that soldiers and the civilians who wrote to them were encouraged to use for their letters to save space in the mailbags, since so many letters were coming in and out. The letter would be transferred to a microfilm and the negative would be printed out once it arrived, hence why Poe tells Rey that her letters wouldn't smell like her if she used V-Mail.


	6. Denouement: where the love-light gleams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Brendon Urie voice* ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for...
> 
> It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that this could be my favorite fic I've ever written; definitely top three, at least. So I can't thank @duchessofthemoonbase enough for requesting it, because I never knew I needed to write this until I did, or any of you guys who've been following along and commenting - it's been so much fun (and so much more educational than I ever realized writing fan fiction could be). Thank you, thank you, thank you - and enjoy the ride!

**December 23rd, 1945**

**San Diego, California**

It's not snowing. 

That's not exactly abnormal in San Diego, and Poe certainly knows better than to expect it, but hearing the other soldiers returning home with him talk about Christmases where they lived - always snowy, it seems - makes it feel almost surprising. It's not even raining, really, though there's a bit of a marine layer rolling in off the coast and the air's a little drizzly. It hardly seems like a proper winter, even though it's the only kind of winter he's ever known. 

(But maybe he's biased. Usually it's sunny at least half of December, and the drizzle is throwing him off.)

As he wanders down the streets, still in uniform, people turn to look, some thanking him for his service, others simply staring (though returning soldiers are hardly a rare sight these days). But he keeps his head down, nodding when it's called for but not saying much. He's still tightly-wound, more nervous than he was before any of his combat missions, as he holds the gift he's been carrying around for hours close to his chest. As he checks to ensure that it's still in order, his thoughts drift to its recipient, and he can't help but smile. 

Two more hours. 

In his last letter, he'd told Rey to expect him on Christmas Eve - he'd thought that was when he'd arrive - but when they docked a day early, he'd decided not to rush to her house the way he wanted to. Surprising her was one thing, but he didn't want to do it unprepared. He'd gone to see his father first, cried himself dry (though he suspected he'd start back up the moment he caught sight of Rey later), and cheekily presented him with the hideous, oversized matching Hawaiian shirts he'd purchased for them.

(He hadn't been particularly fond of the thing at first glance, but Poe had caught his father looking at it with a fond smirk a couple of times, and he was rather confident that it would see more use than Kes Dameron would ever like to admit.)

Then he'd seen Finn; the surprise didn't seem quite so important in his case, and he had to see someone he knew before he lost his mind with waiting. Both had been rather overwhelmed with emotion at first, but the mood of their reunion turned jovial quickly. Much ribbing was done ("I _told_ you, man!" Finn had crowed the moment he mentioned Rey's name, to which Poe replied with a knowing smirk and a pointed question about Rey's friend from the factory), and Finn was perhaps overly proud of the bottle of heinously-popular French perfume he'd managed to bring back for Rey's Christmas gift. (Poe had questioned whether Rey, who could not care less about appearing fashionable, would even _wear_ perfume, but Finn had insisted. Everyone was bringing back the stuff, and he didn't want to leave Rey hanging.)

So, given that Finn had spent hours in line for a bottle of Shalimar that cost two months' wages, he positively lost his mind upon realizing that, as her Christmas gift, Poe had elected to bring his girlfriend a whole coconut. 

He protested that it was personalized - he'd sloppily carved their initials on it with a Swiss Army knife - and that Rey would love it, which he was confident she would; Finn agreed, but he was wildly amused at the irony of the situation: he, her best friend, choosing a gift so exponentially and accidentally more romantic than Poe's (who diplomatically forgot to disclose that he had a feeling Rey would be claiming his of the twin Hawaiian shirts within a couple of days). They plotted: Finn would make a visit to Rey, who was (as always) probably gorging herself on newly-unrationed chocolate with Jess and Rose in her kitchen as they spoke; Poe would surprise her an hour in. Then he'd made his way downtown to pick up a few things (an obscene amountt of saltwater taffy, a bouquet of sunflowers) and...couldn't stop glancing at his watch.

Four o'clock can't come soon enough.

It would be perfect. 

(He hoped.) 

(Though perhaps no scenario could ever live up to the one he'd imagined in their months apart, he harbored a secret hope that the reverse were true.) 

* * *

* * *

"So now every time he opens his glovebox, he's gonna hear that hinge squeak and think of me!" Rose finishes, dissolving into uncontrollable laughter as she wraps up her third retelling of the story of her subtle (and rather tame, infinitely Rose-like) revenge on a customer at her family's auto shop four years ago who didn't believe that a fifteen-year-old girl could _possibly_ know what was wrong with his radiator. Rey and Jess exchange a fond but exasperated look at the sheer number of times Rose has told them about this, but to Finn - new to the story and rather taken-in with its teller - is in hysterics right alongside Rose. _Told you,_ Rey wants to gloat, but now isn't the time. Jess discards yet another foil candy wrapper in the middle of the kitchen table and leans back in her seat, surprisingly nonchalant for someone who's just eaten six full-sized candy bars after nary a bite of sugar in years. (She'd reunited with sugar with greater enthusiasm than some wives reunited with their returning husbands and it didn't seem to bother her a whit.) 

And Rey watches, a soft, satisfied smile on her face, because those faded daises on the kitchen table seem just a little brighter now, and there's laughter in this empty house again. 

Finn checks his watch and frowns. "You wanna get that?" he asks instinctively, and Rey's eyebrows raise. 

"No one's at the-" 

_Ding!_

Finn cringes. _Too early. Now she'll know something is up._

But it doesn't matter, because either way Rey's already up and practically running to the doorway as if she knows who rang the bell. She flings it open with a little too much abandon, and Poe has barely enough time to duck out of the way of the flying door and throw down the flowers and coconut (lest her enthusiasm crush them) before Rey runs to the porch and throws her entire body weight at him with as much force as she can manage (which is...a lot, apparently). He tightens his arms around her like a vise, gooseflesh rising on his arms as every single nerve in his body seems to light up at her long-awaited touch. He holds her close so that there's no need for words, she crying against his shoulder and he not quite crying but certainly near to it. Her face is tucked against the crook of his neck, and Poe's rarely been so sure of anything as he is of the fact that he could stay where he is now for the rest of his life and die blissfully happy. 

But it doesn't last, because Rey's got a few other things on her mind after all these months, and she pulls away to look him in the eyes. 

"You had better kiss me now, Flyboy," she demands, her voice so stern as to sound almost cross before the facade cracks and she begins to laugh through the tears. And he's laughing too, because nothing could feel more _right,_ and then her lips are on his and Poe _swears_ his brain shuts off for a good thirty seconds as she kisses him for dear life.

But when it powers up again, he observes that her lips taste like chocolate and home and sweetness and sunshine, a perfect stasis he could live in for the rest of his life and never tire of.

"Sunshine," is all he can muster after they break apart. 

"I thought about that every day we were apart," Rey admits.

He doesn't know what to say to that, either, so he kisses her again, and it's only then that they remember that they have an audience. (Both blush furiously as Jess wolf-whistles.) So they pull away again and, Rey clinging to Poe's arm, make their way back inside, dizzy under the weight of their overwhelming emotions, and Rey wonders for a moment if life ever gets better than this. 

(It does, in fact. She learns this half an hour later, when she comes into possession of a freshly-imported coconut. 

She never knew she needed one, but she does. She _absolutely_ does, and she is _far_ too in love with the thing. 

Some things never change.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RESEARCH NOTES  
> -A French perfume called Shalimar became extremely popular as a gift that American GIs would bring back for their girlfriends when they returned from service in France. That's what I based Finn's gift for Rey upon.  
> -Apparently, the modern "Hawaiian shirt" more or less existed by WWII, so even if it's a little bit of a stretch to say that Poe might have brought one back, it isn't much of one.


End file.
